


A Little Fire Whiskey to Dull the Pain

by uncodedconnections



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Drinking pals, Gen, about Arthur and Lucius bonding over their suffering, banquet for the wizarding parents of hogwarts students, basically set at a, holy fuck we’re free of our kids for a few months, honestly who can blame them, i can’t write fic so don’t worry this is my first and final one, i just wanted to write something ridiculous and short, probably really ooc, this isn’t shippy pls don’t take it that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncodedconnections/pseuds/uncodedconnections
Summary: Lucius encounters an inebriated Arthur Weasley at a banquet. Suffering ensues.





	A Little Fire Whiskey to Dull the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> fuuuuuuxkkkkkkkkk this is so bad, I don’t want it on my phone anymore. psa the beginning is shit, the middle is acceptable, and the end is a bit better than I expected (which isn’t a whole lot tbh)

Lucius Malfoy did not want to be here. The scent of Fire Whiskey and Butter Beer permeated the air and the joyous voices of wizarding parents left him nauseous. Never the less, he situated the Malfoy scowl onto his face and sauntered further into the spacious dining hall, Narcissa separating from him to go mingle with her acquaintances.

Had it been up to Lucius, he wouldn't be here. Sadly, the Dark Lord had insisted that all qualifying Death Eaters attend and even though most of the Wizarding World already suspected Lucius of being one himself, he still had a reputation to uphold, and he would uphold that reputation no matter what. Even if he really did not want to be here.

An open bar in the middle of the room caught his attention and he immediately altered his course, all remorseful thoughts drifting away as he fantasized of drinking away the evening.

"Malfoy!" A voice called as soon as Lucius picked up a glass of Fire Whiskey. Said man whipped his head in the direction of the voice, expecting to see a Death Eater or fellow Governor. His scowl deepened when he saw a completely plastered Arthur Weasley drunkenly lumbering towards him.

"Weasley," Lucius ground out, his grip on his glass tightening considerably. He expected violent hostility from the flaming redhead, or at least a stiff greeting before they parted for the rest of the night, since those would be the only logical choices of interaction. He did not expect for Arthur Weasley to throw his arm over Lucius Malfoy's shoulder in a non-I-know-you're-a-death-eater-and-am-waiting-for-just-the-right-moment-to-out-you-kind-of-way and laugh heartily as if they were the best of friends. Lucius struggled not to pull a face, but could not stop his nose from scrunching up slightly at the stench of alcohol on the man's breath.

“What,” Lucius ground out, before remembering his manners and evening out his tone, “do you want, Arthur?”

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” Arthur slurred, sloshing his half empty glass of fire whiskey, “I was just talking with my wife, I’m sure you know her, Molly, positively lovely, and then you walked in and I thought ‘hey, why aren’t me and Lucius Malfoy BFFs—my daughter taught me that term, apparently it’s all the rage among muggle youth—and so, heeerrree I am.” Arthur shouted a cheerful hello to one of his coworkers passing by, and then preceded to tow an unwilling Lucius towards a comfortable looking booth, not a care in the world that he was causing a majority of Lucius’s fire whiskey to spill and splatter onto the floor as he was jerked across the hall.

“Since when have you and I had anything in common, Weasley?”

“Lots of things,” Arthur replied, unceremoniously shoving Lucius into one side of the booth before settling in to the opposite seat himself. “We both have government positions, we both have — and pardon my mention of this, I know it’s taboo at this sort of event — children.”

Lucius grimaced slightly, taking a large gulp from his remaining fire whiskey, “Everyone here has children, Weasley, there is a reason it’s called the ‘Annual Hogwarts Sendoff Celebration’.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Arthur said, finishing his own drink and gesturing to a nearby house elf that was skillfully handling a tray twice it’s size for another. “But our children have something in common themselves.”

“Do they?”

“Yes,” Arthur whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially, in turn forcing Lucius to do the same to hear his next words. “A certain, Harry Potter, no?”

Lucius could barely resist the urge to throw his head back and groan miserably. He’d spent the entirety of the summer hearing about Stupid Potter with his stupid broomstick and his stupid scar, and it was beginning to give him nightmares. With a scowl, Lucius stood up, determined not to hear that cursed name for the rest of what was meant to be a peaceful night. 

Arthur seemed to find something amusing about Lucius’ sour facial expression, because he laughed heartily and reached over the table to pull Lucius back into the seat. “I know, absolutely a taboo topic, but it’s about the only thing I hear in my house. Don’t get me wrong, I love him like another son—even though I seem to have no shortage of those—but, when most of your kids are openly obsessed with him, it gets a bit difficult.”

Lucius nodded and sipped from the glass that a house elf set on the table for him. “He is sadly a common topic of conversation in my household as well.”

“I’m not surprised, at least you don’t have to suffer through your only daughter speaking about him as if they weren’t already dating,” Arthur took another gulp, as if trying to drown out a bad memory with the taste of liquor. “She made a poem for him once, in Second Year, I’m pretty sure Molly framed it.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed, feeling a slight pang of simpathy, but also a burning urge to one up the man sitting before him in terrible experiences he’s had involving his son’s obsession with The Boy Who Lived. He took a drink.

———

“Draco sent me twenty letters within the space of an afternoon with rough drafts for some ‘Potter Stinks’ badge.”

———

“Three of my kids broke multiple laws, a window, and hijacked my flying car to help Harry do some grand escape from his Aunt and Uncles house.”

———

“The Slytherin House started a drinking game for every time Draco said the word ‘Potter’. By the end of the week, more than half of the House was in the hospital wing, and Professor Snape developed a drinking problem that took two weeks and a plethora of potions to reverse.”

———

“My wife asked me if we could procure adoption papers after she saw him wearing the Christmas sweater she’d knitted him for the first time.”

———

“In his first year, I received a weekly howler from Draco containing of all of the stupid things stupid Potter had done.”

———

The hired band was packing up, people were filing towards the apparation points and fireplaces connected to the Floo network, and house elves were clearing away tables of drinks and half eaten plates of food.

A reluctant and silent duo strode through the hall, a Mrs. Molly Weasley and a Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy née Black were scouring the venue for their husbands, who had last been spotted in the courtyard, arms draped across each other as the shitfaced men jumped from one topic to another in a fashion passerby could not understand.

Both were extremely worried about the fate of their husbands, but, as they peered into a shallow alcove, it appeared their troubles were for naught.

Two unlikely drinking friends could be seen, collapsed and unconscious below a tall window that was filtering in the early light of a not quite risen sun. Arthur Weasley was snoring loudly as he draped his body over the back of a lightly drooling Lucius Malfoy, but other than that, the image was that of a rare, momentary peace.


End file.
